


Alors on Danse

by wordsofhoney



Category: Dota (Video Games) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Mentions of other professional Dota Players, POV Sébastien "Ceb" Debs, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsofhoney/pseuds/wordsofhoney
Summary: After a successful upper bracket run, Johan gives an interview to Kaci. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't quite ready for it.
Relationships: Sébastien "Ceb" Debs/Johan "N0tail" Sundstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Alors on Danse

— He what?

Sébastien feels as if all air has been knocked out of his chest, laughter dying on his lips. There was a lot going on today, and in midst of it all he didn’t have time to watch that interview Kaci did with Johan yet. Which, turns out, was a mistake, because Johan used it to dedicate _the whole bloody tournament_ to him.

Titouan takes one look at Séb’s face, and starts babbling away, giving Séb some time to collect himself. The rest of the interview goes by in a haze, and when it's over, Séb leans back in the chair with a groan, rubbing his eyes underneath eyeglasses. 

— Wanna see it? — Titouan asks, flopping back on the bed and reaching for his laptop.

Séb hesitates. Everything inside him wants to watch the interview, to see Johan, to understand, what _in the bloody hell_ was he thinking.

But it also feels… personal. 

— Later, — Séb hears himself say as he gets up and heads towards the door. — We need to get ready for tomorrow, Ana wanted to try a new strat.

Titouan gives him a funny look and the corners of his mouth twitch, but he stays silent, and grabs his headphones. Not that Séb actually thinks he's fooled him — they’ve known each other for years, after all, — but he’s still grateful, and tries not to ruin the illusion until the door falls shut behind him.

Only when he’s alone does Séb allow himself to freak out. His fingers are already tapping at the phone as he hurries over to the staircase — the only place he can think of that is both nearby and deserted. Sébastien’s mind is racing, and his thoughts are in a complete disarray. _Why would Johan do that?_ Sure, Séb was there for him when Pumba died — but truth is, so was the rest of the team. They are like a family at this point, of course they support each other through everything. That doesn’t justify such a grand gesture.

With a quick glance around to make sure the hallway is empty, Séb slips into the stairwell. He jumps down over a few steps before sitting down, holding phone in one hand and nervously nibbling at fingers of the other, and hitting “play”.

Johan looks like he is on a verge of having a panic attack. His voice is shaking, and his breathing is too quick, chest and shoulders rising high and falling. Usually calm and collected, he keeps fidgeting in his chair. Séb can _feel_ energy buzzing around him.

— Sébastien... I mean, honestly, I dedicate this tournament to him, — Johan’s voice is strained, as if he is about to cry. Séb bites a finger harder and swallows a lump in his throat.

He thinks about Kiev. 

He has been with OG for quite some time at that point, trying his best to share his knowledge, ideas, and vision of the game. And Tal was listening, sure. They worked a lot together, but Séb always felt like Tal’s heart wasn’t in it. He was a captain, and as a captain he knew he needed to take what was being offered for the sake of the team. Doesn’t mean he had to like it, and while Séb understood that, it didn’t help to ease the sting.

Johan, on the other hand… Johan found him. “I've read your blog, and I'm in Paris,” he wrote, “Wanna hang out?”. They went out for lunch, a small place in 16th arrondissement, away from tourist trails. Two glasses of wine became a bottle, then two, and somehow they ended up at Séb’s small apartment. They talked through the whole night, sprawled on the only sofa, up until Johan had to head back to the airport in unholy hours of the morning. Séb fell asleep right on the sofa, and when he woke up, there was a message from OG in his Twitter, asking him to coach them.

He never planned to return to professional e-sports. He was done with Dota. 

He agreed.

A year later, Séb was standing in the shadows of the main stage, smiling, as he watched his team lift up the trophy. He was buzzing with energy that had nowhere to go. His heart sang, and he took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down, thinking about leaving to let go of his emotions backstage.

— Séb! Séb, oh my god, — he heard Johan before he saw him, gliding through a cloud of confetti, shoes once again forgotten in the booth. Next moment, Séb found himself being dragged to the rest of the team and celebrated as if it weren’t _they_ who did the impossible in the last game.

Séb never forgot that feeling, the elation of being recognised and valued for the first time in years. He stashed it away into the deepest corner of his heart, together with that night in Paris, to turn to, when things got rough.

As it turned out, Tal didn’t forget that moment either, it just took him another year to flip out. It's been years since that fateful talk in Birmingham, and yet it was still fresh in Séb’s memory. “This team doesn’t work”. “I don't believe in you anymore”. _“Good luck to you two”_.

Sébastien could forgive a lot. Leaving the team for a more perspective one, doing so right before the Major, even keeping it a secret until the very last moment; but he could never forgive the look of absolute devastation Tal put on Johan’s face that day.

An echo of past pain brings Séb back from his thoughts. He isn’t sure, how long has he been sitting on cold stairs. With a shaky sigh, Séb gets up, and sets off in the direction of Johan’s room.

— Coming, — comes hushed voice in response to Séb's knocking, and in a couple of seconds the door opens.

Johan looks disheveled. He has already changed into lounge wear, a loose t-shirt and old sweatpants that, Séb is pretty sure, have seen a couple of Major wins. He looks tired, but the moment he sees Séb, his face lightens up. 

— Hey, man, — he steps aside to let Sébastien come in, and closes the door behind him, — I thought you're doing an interview for the French guys with Socks. 

— We… Eh… We were, but we're done now, — suddenly Séb realises, that he has no idea how to start. Doesn’t even know, what he wants to say. Johan senses his hesitation, and frowns. 

— What’s wrong? Did the interview go bad? Or… _Oh_.

Séb can see the moment realisation hits Johan. His face falls, and he’s blinking furiously.

— So you've seen it, then. 

Séb nods, frowning slightly. He expected a cheeky smile, maybe a joke, but Johan looks tense, light blush creeping up his cheeks, and he can’t seem to look Séb in the eye.

Johan drags a hand through his hair, and turns away from Séb, coming further into the room, putting more distance between them. He turns around with a wave of a hand, and looks as if he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. In the end he just chuckles and shrugs helplessly.

— I… I just wanted to say, “thank you”. For… for everything. 

Sébastien stares. Johan he knows is never ashamed of his emotions. He wears his heart on his sleeve, his whole behaviour a giant finger to any masculinity standards society deemed to be the norm. He would never be embarrassed of something affectionate he said or did, unless… 

Unless he accidentally revealed more than he intended to. 

Séb looks at him, _really_ looks, and yes, on the surface Johan looks tired, exhausted even. But underneath it all he also looks hesitant, and a little bit hopeful, and a little bit afraid. 

Johan is never afraid.

Séb can feel the pieces of puzzle in his head click together, all the accidental touches, all the naughty tweets, all the surreptitious photos, and now this dedication, like a cherry on top. His eyes widen in realisation, and Johan must have noticed, because he looks down, still, as a cornered animal.

Séb’s body moves on its own. He crosses the distance between them, coming close, crowding Johan’s personal space. Johan takes a shaky inhale, but doesn’t back away, doesn’t even move, just raises his eyes to look at Séb.

Slowly, not breaking eye contact, Sébastien raises his hand. Trembling fingers ghost over the short stubble on Johan's chin, slide up the cheekbone, and come to rest on the cheek. Séb’s heart is pounding, and he feels shivers running down his spine. They are standing so close that Sébastien can feel Johan’s erratic breaths on his lips and smell the lingering presence of tobacco.

Séb’s eyes flicker to Johan’s mouth, and he whispers, sounding desperate even to himself, _”_Tell me to stop”. His own brain is screaming at him to stop. They should’t be doing this. They are on the same team, the one that was rebuilt from ashes once already, and Séb isn’t sure it can survive another fall. But then Johan lets out a shaky exhale and leans into his touch, and Sébastien crushes their lips together. 

The kiss feels like the first breath after coming up to the surface of thick water. All the flirting, all the dancing around each other, all the longing — all their past years leading up to this.

There’s nothing gentle about it, it’s all tongues and teeth, biting lips and licking away the pain. They kiss with desperate urgency, as if both of them don’t want to waste a second longer, consequences be damned.

Johan’s hands come up to grab at Séb’s shirt, and Séb wraps his free hand around Johan’s waist, holding him close, shifting his balance, forcing him to lean back.

— Ah, _putain_, — gasps Johan, as Séb starts planting sloppy kisses down his neck.

— What? — Sébastien feels high, but his brain still perks up at the unexpected word, and he pulls back to look at Johan.

— _Putain_, — Johan repeats with a cheeky smirk that Séb kisses away, grinning into the kiss himself.

— _Je t'adore,_ — he whispers, ghosting his lips over Johan’s, — _Je t'adore, et je t'aime, et j'veux t’niquer sur ce lit jusqu'à t'peux plus parler. Et t’peux être sûr, j'prendrai plaisir d'chaque seconde d'ça._

Sébastien feels Johan go still in his arms, and he opens his eyes to find Johan staring at him with a mixture of wonder, arousal, and absolute _love_. “_Fuck_”, breaths out Johan, barely audible, and Séb is gone.

— I love you so fucking much, — he rasps, bringing their foreheads together, nuzzling with his nose at short stubble on Johan’s cheek, revelling in the feeling of Johan's warm body pressed against own, — I _want_ you so fucking much.

— God, _Séb_, — Johan almost sobs, bringing his hands up to cradle Sébastien’s face, — I’m yours, ever since I stepped over your doorstep for the first time, I’m yours.

Séb screws his eyes shut, as if he’s afraid this is just a dream that can disappear any second, and turns his head to nuzzle at Johan’s hand. He plants a soft kiss at the palm, gently bites the wrist, and licks a strip up the forearm.

He basks in the small sounds Johan makes at his every movement. His hands come underneath Johan’s t-shirt, and he drags them up his sides, savouring the feeling of strong muscles rolling underneath the soft skin. Johan surrenders himself to his touch with a soft sigh, throwing head back, baring his neck.

Sébastien drags a single finger down Johan’s spine while sucking at the pulse point on his throat, and Johan moans. Séb continues stroking motion all the way down to the tailbone, and Johan's hips bulge forward, causing their crotches to brush. They gasp in unison at the touch, and stop in their tracks to stare at each other, caught by surprise, afraid to make a wrong move. 

— Fuck, _Séb_, — Johan breathes, and tugs at the hem of Sébastien's shirt. Séb lets go for long enough to take it off, and as he drags it over his head, Johan all but drops to his knees before him.

Sébastien feels his breath stolen away for the second time this evening at the sight. Johan looks up at him with a small smile, and starts planting soft kisses on his stomach, coming lower with each brush of lips. His hands come to the waistband of Séb’s trousers, and he starts pulling them down, slowly, nuzzling and kissing every new inch of bare skin.

Sébastien is trembling. He can feel the trail of kisses lingering on his body as a path of fire. His hand comes to Johan’s head, not pushing, just a light brush of shaking fingers through the short hair. Johan leans his head into the touch, and drags Séb’s trousers with underwear all the way down, freeing his cock. Sébastien can see Johan’s pupils grow wide at the sight, and then Johan sighs, leans in, and licks a strip from the base of the shaft all the way to the tip. 

Séb’s breath comes out in a throaty moan. Johan drags his hands up Séb’s hips, thumbs brushing the sensitive inner side, and circles one hand around the base of his cock.

— So fucking sexy, — he murmurs, and before Séb can reply, Johan leans in and swallows him whole. 

Sébastien’s brain comes to a halt. Johan is good. He manages to do some twisted thing with his tongue around the head at every tact, all while keeping a steady rhythm. Séb moans, and he’s pretty sure he’s babbling some nonsense in one language or the other, but he’s too far gone to care. Johan doesn’t seem to mind, anyway. He removed his hand from the base on the shaft, and now almost nuzzles at the trimmed hair on each swallow. 

Séb’s fingers twitch in Johan’s hair, and Johan must have felt it, because he looks up, and purposefully takes Séb’s dick a little bit deeper. Sébastien groans, and buckles his hips forward, holding Johan’s head in place. Johan moans around his cock, and Séb can feel the vibration go all the way to his bones, carrying pleasure through his whole body. He repeats the motion again, and again, and now he’s just fucking Johan’s mouth, holding him in place with a strong hand.

Johan’s eyes are closed and there are traces of tears on his cheeks, but his hands on Séb’s ass keep nudging him forward. Sébastien can feel orgasm building up in the bottom of his stomach. He’s about to pull out, but Johan takes him all the way in, and honest-to-gods swallows several times with his throat around the head.

Sébastien gasps, and then he’s coming. Johan coughs, but doesn’t pull away, swallowing everything. He continues soft motions through Séb’s aftershocks, and draws back to sit on the floor only after Séb flinches at increased sensitivity.

Sébastien looks down at Johan sitting at his feet, legs crossed, still fully dressed, cheeky smile on his face, wiping traces of cum and tears with the back of his hand, and wonders, what on earth did he do to deserve this.

— You’re beautiful, — he says aloud. Johan snorts.

— That’s your post-orgasmic high speaking.

Séb offers him a hand, and as Johan pulls himself up, Séb catches him into an embrace, kissing away salt from the swollen lips. ”My turn,” he murmurs, dragging a finger along Johan’s cock through his trousers, drinking in Johan’s soft gasp at the touch.

Séb drags Johan’s t-shirt off, throwing it to the rest of the pile in the middle of the room, and plants a soft kiss on his collarbone. They are pressed chest to chest now, savouring each other’s warmth, soft touches, and gentle kisses.

Séb walks them backwards towards the bed. Johan's knees hit the bed frame, and he falls down on a soft mattress with a surprised laugh. Sébastien’s heart sings as he leans down and steals it away with a kiss. He feels like they have been doing this for ages — and maybe they have, in their thoughts, in their dreams, just never aloud, not until now.

Séb breaks the kiss, and drags lips down Johan’s neck, tasting sweat off the skin. He moves further down, gently bites a nipple and soothes it with his tongue, licks a trail down to the navel and plants a soft kiss there. Johan is long gone now, reduced to a gasping mess underneath Séb’s body. Sébastien drags off his sweatpants, and nuzzles at dark blond hair, drinking in Johan’s smell.

Johan gasps as Séb continues trail of kisses down the length of his shaft. He reaches the tip of Johan's cock, and gently licks at the slit, dragging tongue down to wrap around the frenulum, and swallows the head. 

Johan groans and arches his back. Séb casts a look up from underneath the eyelashes, closes his eyes, and takes in the rest of the shaft, revelling in the way Johan’s breath just stops for a second before coming out in moan.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Several years. At first his whole life was about the game, and just when he thought it was over — Johan appeared on his doorstep and dragged him back into it, stealing his heart along the way.

Séb messily swallows Johan’s cock a couple of times, then wraps lips around his teeth, and starts rocking his head, going as deep as he can, trying to find the rhythm.

Johan has always been fairly easy to read for Séb, but, turns out, aroused Johan is like an open book. He gasps at every twist of Séb’s tongue, shivers at every touch, and Séb feels drunk on his reactions. He brings a hand to cup Johan’s balls, and wets a finger of other hand with thick saliva. He reaches further down, and presses finger to the ring of muscle, not pushing in, just gently massaging it, never stopping movement of his head.

He can feel it coming. Johan goes still, all his muscles taut, cock ever so slightly bigger in Séb’s mouth — and the next second Séb is drinking thick liquid as Johan moans in pleasure.

Séb continues sucking gently until Johan relaxes completely, and then pulls away to flop on the bed next to him. Johan turns his head, opens heavy eyes, and smiles softly, bringing a hand up to caress Séb’s cheek with his knuckles. The movement is so tender, that it feels like the first ray of sunshine after a cold winter on Séb’s skin. Séb sighs, and closes his eyes. 

They just lie there, half-asleep, basking in each other’s warmth and presence. They don’t say anything, because there’s nothing left to say. Sébastien isn’t sure, how much time has passed. At some point Johan draped himself over him, resting his head on Séb’s chest, and now Séb is idly stroking the small of his back.

— You know, that was the most beautiful love confession I’ve ever heard, — murmurs Séb into Johan’s hair, — But you weren’t exactly being subtle.

— Wasn't thinking, — comes a muffled reply.

Séb smiles, and lands a soft kiss on top of Johan’s head. He’s done it countless of times before, but it feels so much different now. 

— Aren’t you afraid? How people will react?   
  
At this, Johan rolls to his side to look at Sébastien properly, and grins.

— Oh, this is gonna be _so_ much fun.


End file.
